


Spark Deep

by Exactlywhat



Series: Transformers Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exactlywhat/pseuds/Exactlywhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But come sunrise, after all their guests had left, when they looked at each other, they saw only monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long-ish wait. I was gone for half the week, then the bunny was being... stubborn. -_-

Spark Deep

Prologue

Once upon a time, two brothers lived in a beautiful Manor. They were skilled in their chosen trades, but they were also spoiled, selfish, and unkind. They had everything their sparks could desire, yet they always wanted more. 

They held parties every night, loud parties, parties that ended with mechs staggering home over-energized and with far fewer credits than they had arrived with. 

But then, one cold, stormy night, an old mech came to their door. His plating was battered and scratched, and his optics were dim. 

“Please, let me in, give me a place to shelter for the night,” he begged, but the Twins turned him away. 

“You have no credits,” they said, blue optics shimmering with disgust. “You are dirty and unclean. We do not want you in our house.”

The mech asked again. “Please, sirs, let me in. I have things other than credits, and surely compassion is more valuable than these things you crave.”

Once again, they turned him away. “You have nothing we want, mech.”

“So be it,” the mech intoned, voice evening out, gaining power. He stood, transforming. His plating became smooth and clean, his frame straightened, and, moments later, a massive, beautiful mech was standing before them. “You have no compassion, no caring in your sparks. From this orn onward, you and your household are cursed. Have your parties, your credits, and your drinks. By night, you will remain as you are. But come daylight, you will be cast out as monsters among society. Until you can learn to care, and earn someone's affection in return, you will remain as I have said. Go now, return to your guests. Enjoy your empty parties.”

The mech whirled away, disappearing into the storm. The Twins shrugged it off and returned to the party.

But come sunrise, after all their guests had left, when they looked at each other, they saw only monsters.


	2. Chapter 1: Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bunny bites hard.

Chapter 1: Deal

Smokescreen rushed toward the light, rain dancing down around him. He had been on his way home when the storm had struck, catching him unawares. He had transformed, wheels useless on the slick roads, and continued on, trudging through the crystal forest, trying to get home. Then he had spotted the light. It was distant, flickering through the waving branches of the trees, but he pushed on. 

Now, closer, he could hear pounding music, and see other lights, colored ones, dancing through the windows. 

A club? Way out here, in the middle of the forest?

As he found the gate and walked through, he saw it wasn't just a club. 

“A manor house?” he whispered, awed. There were so few of the outdated buildings left. 

Shaking it off, he dashed forward and knocked on the door. It swung open immediately, a tall, wide, black mech holding it. 

“Welcome to the Sunside Manor,” the mech said, nodding his visored helm. “There is a dryer over there. Once you're cleaned, I’ll show you to the party.”

“Oh, I’m not here for the party,” Smokescreen said, taking a half-step backwards. “I was simply looking for shelter.”

“Nonsense,” a cheery voice said from somewhere to his left. Smokescreen jerked and turned, optics landing on a tall, well-built, red frame. “Everyone's here to party. Come. Dry off, then come and have some fun. You might as well. This storm is going to last quite a while.”

“I... suppose,” the Praxian framed mech said hesitantly, and allowed the black mech to guide him into the washracks for a quick rinse and dry. He came out with clean plating, feeling much warmer. The red mech was waiting, a small smirk on his face. 

“Come, traveler. I am Lord Sideswipe.”

“Eh... Smokescreen.”

“It is nice to meet you, Smokescreen. Come.”

They entered the party room, and Smokescreen gasped, optics widening and doorwings flaring. It was a beautiful room, the walls inlaid with stones and gems, the flashing lights reflecting off the inlays. Mechs gyrated on the dance floor, crowded around the table covered with cubes of high-grade, gathered at tables with cards...

Sideswipe noticed the mech staring at the gambling tables. “You play?” he asked. 

Smokescreen glanced at his host and nodded. “I enjoy playing.”

“Then perhaps you would entertain me with a private game? I enjoy the game as well, but few play as seriously as I do.”

“I... I think I'd like that?”

“Good! Come, come,” he insisted, grabbing the red and blue mech's elbow and guiding him to a small, vacant table in the corner. 

Smokescreen sat heavily on the chair accepting the cube and cards that were thrust into his hands. The game started, and the Praxian took a big drink of the high-grade. 

The night got fuzzy after that, exhaustion and powerful high-grade clouding his processors. 

Sideswipe did, indeed, play seriously. Credits changed hands rapidly. Then, suddenly, Smokescreen had nothing in front of him. He blinked slowly at the table. 

“Looks like you're out, Smokescreen,” Sideswipe said with a grin. 

Smokescreen shook his helm and glanced down at his cards. It was a good hand...

“Nahhh,” he slurred, and vaguely wondered when his vocal processor had gotten a glitch. “I've got- got shomething elsh... I bet what'sh in my shecondary-dary shubspace...” There wasn't anything very important in there, was there?”

“Ah, I suppose I will match that.”

With a lopsided, drunken grin, Smokescreen laid his cards on the table. Sideswipe's smirk widened as he did the same. 

“Looks like I win again, Smokey,” he said, voice razor sharp in Smokescreen's audios. He stared dazedly at the cards. That... that couldn't be right... “Hand it over, please,” he said with a grin. 

Smokescreen hesitated, then opened his secondary supbspace and emptied it. Three cubes of energon, a few sprigs of a purplish crystal plant, and a datapad. 

Datapad.

Datapad...

“No!” he cried as Sideswipe picked it up and examined it curiously. The red mech shot Smokescreen an amused glance and turned it on. 

A moment later, his optics widened. “A contract... Hm.”

“No...”

“For a mech named 'Bluestreak'... Your cousin? Brave of you, risking him...”

Feeling much more sober than he had a moment ago, Smokescreen choked back a sob. “Please, he just came from Praxus, I forgot that was there, please, please don't take him!”

Sideswipe gave a wicked smile, and a yellow mech with a similar frame sidled up behind him. “Look at this, Sunny,” he said, holding the datapad up. “Looks like we've got a new servant.”

“Don't call me that,” the yellow mech said, taking the datapad. “And not servant, Sides. Apprentice. See?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Please, I’ll do anything, don't take him! His creators just died, he...”

Sideswipe shook his helm. “A deal is a deal. And anyways, the contract is only until he reaches his five-hundredth vorn.”

“He hasn't even reached three hundred yet! Please, don't do this!”

“Come now, Smokescreen,” Sideswipe said, voice consoling. The smirk belayed his reassuring tone, though. “He will be apprenticed to two Lords. That must be much better than anything you could offer him. And we treat our underlings well...”

Smokescreen slumped in his chair, doorwings drooping. 

“Leave here come sunrise. Be back in two orns time, at sundown. Not a moment sooner. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lords,” he whispered. 

“Good. Sunrise is in a joor. Hound will show you to a berth you can rest in until then.”

A green mech stepped out of the shadows and gave a shallow bow to the Praxain. Smokescreen listlessly stood and followed. 

“They aren't all that bad,” Hound said as they walked out of the room and up a flight of stairs. “They don't treat us horribly.”

“I... I just... I gave him away...”

“It will be alright. I am sure that the Lords will allow you to visit, if you ask,” Hound assured. “And even if they say no... Well, I can hide things. I can get you in to see him at least once or twice.”

Smokescreen huffed an angry laugh. “What am I going to tell him?”

Hound just shook his helm and opened a door. A wide, comfortable looking berth dominated the room. “Please, recharge. I will wake you come sunrise. Or I will send another servant if I am busy.”

Choking back sobs, Smokescreen fell upon the berth.


	3. Chapter 2: Promise

Chapter 2: Keeping a Promise

Bluestreak stared at his uncle, optics wide, vocalizer silent. “What?” finally managed, and Smokescreen's doorwings slumped even farther. 

“I'm so sorry, Blue. I... I was over-charged, and stupid, and... I’m so sorry...”

Bluestreak leaned forward in his chair. “I... It's okay, Smokescreen.”

“No, it's not. You just lost... lost... and I’m making you lose it all again...”

“Cousin. I... won't say I’m not mad, but... I love you, and I will uphold your honor. I will go and keep your promise for you. It's only two hundred vorns.”

“That's a long time, Blue.”

“Well, that servant did say you might be able to visit...” Bluestreak said, forcing a smile, and patted the other Praxian's knee. “I'll be okay, Smokey.”

The blue and red Praxian vented, then nodded. “Okay. Okay. We have to be there tomorrow night... I’ll... I’ll help you pack.”

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

They arrived at the manor just as the sun was slipping behind the horizon. Trailbreaker, the big black mech, was once again at the door. 

“Welcome back, Smokescreen. Bluestreak, welcome to Sunside Manor.”

Bluestreak nodded nervously, mute for the moment as he stared at the elaborate, beautiful building. 

“Ah, Smokescreen,” a cheery voice said, and Smokescreen's engine rumbled angrily. “I see you upheld your promise. Good. I would have hated having to come after you. And you must be Bluestreak,” the red mech said with a charming smile. “Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Nothing humble about it, Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker growled as he stalked past his brother and up to the gray and red Praxian. He looked him over with predatory optics, then nodded. “You'll do. Hound! Show Bluestreak to his quarters. Smokescreen, you are no longer needed here. Go.”

With that, the yellow mech whirled around and disappeared upstairs. Sideswipe grinned and followed him.

The green mech stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on the Praxian's shoulder. “Come on, Bluestreak. It's not so bad here. Sunstreaker is always grumpy when he's hungry.”

Bluestreak said nothing. He just turned, gave his uncle one last hug, then nodded to Hound. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I... I’m ready.”

The room he was shown to made his processors freeze. For a long moment, he wondered if this was what his older brother, Prowl, felt like when he locked up. 

The walls were inlaid with crystals, the lines and shapes swirling in complex, yet still somehow simple patterns. There was a fire burning in the grate – a real, old-fashioned fire! There was a thick, mesh-covered couch in front of the fire, with a small table in front of it. There were a few odd ornaments and odds and ends scattered about the room, all just as elaborate and beautiful as the room itself. There were two doors on one wall, and through one, Bluestreak could see a wide, comfortable looking, padded berth. Through the other, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful, highly decorated washracks.

“This... this is really for me?” he asked, voice scratchy with static. 

“Yes, it is,” Hound said with a grin. “You're the Lords' apprentice, you know. Not just a servant, Master Bluestreak.”

Bluestreak's optics widened and he frantically shook his helm. “No, no, I’m just a trader's creation... Don't cal me master! Just... don't.”

Hound shook his helm. “I'm afraid I must. The Lords insist.”

“But... I’m not...”

“You are now,” Sideswipe said, and Bluestreak glanced over to see him leaning against the doorframe, a wide smirk on his faceplates. 

“No, I'm-”

“Bluestreak. You are. We have your contract.” His optics half-closed, he whipped the datapad out of his subspace, dangling it in front of the two mechs. “You're our apprentice. You do what we say.”

“Why...”

“For us to know, Li'l Boy Blue.” Bluestreak shuddered, doorwings wilting. Sideswipe's coy look melted into a confused frown. “What?”

“Don't... My creators called me that.”

The red Twin's expression softened. “Ah... Sorry... I’ll... Sorry.”

Bluestreak just nodded. With a heavy vent, Sideswipe pushed away from the doorframe. “There's a party every night. You're welcome to come, and can bring whoever you want to your berth. However, no one ever stays past sunrise. They all must be gone.”

Bluestreak was staring. “I... I... Okay?”

Sideswipe gave one last nod. “Alright then. Anyone wearing that symbol-” He gestured to the stylized, red sun on Hound's chest. “-is a servant, and you may ask them for anything you desire. They have all been told who you are.”

And then he was gone, and Bluestreak was alone with Hound. 

“Well...”

“Do you wish to go to the party, Master Bluestreak? Or would you like me to find something for you to do here?”

“I...”

“I will accompany you, if you wish for an escort.”

“That would be nice...”

Hound smiled. “Then come, Master Bluestreak.”

A breem later, Bluestreak was walking through the crowd of mechs, doorwings twitching in time with the pounding music. He could sense Hound trailing along behind him, a comforting, steady EM field pressed up against his. He had always liked standing amidst the chaotic mess of a crowd, but the steadying presence helped. He was still reeling from... well, all of it.

He spent the night sitting with Hound in a dark corner. They didn't talk much – it was close to impossible with the noise – but they watched the moving bodies, the frames of the faceless crowd. Lights flashed brightly, music pounded into their sensors. 

The time passed quickly, and Bluestreak spent a joor or two sitting there. He grew to be tired, though, and asked Hound to lead him back to his room. 

“As you wish, Master Bluestreak,” he had said, smiling gently, and did as asked. 

The music was just a distant beat in his room, a soothing rumble. Bluestreak fell asleep quickly on the too-comfortable berth, tired after the long orn. 

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

When he woke, his chronometer told him it was the middle of the day. Stretching and flaring his doorwings, he stood after luxuriating on the soft berth for a moment and left the room, slowly ambling his way downstairs to the kitchen, which he had seen the orn before. 

There were a couple mechs working in the warm room, but they paid him little attention after he waved them off. He got himself a cube of plain energon, drank it, then decided to go exploring. There was much of the manor house he had not yet seen, after all. 

He ambled through the halls, no destination in mind, opening doors as he passed, poking into empty rooms. 

The floors passed quickly under his pedes, the grandeur and extravagance before his optics marveled at. He saw many servants. They all bowed to him before continuing on with whatever chore they were carrying out. He tried to talk to a few of them, but those he did talk to seemed nervous and uncomfortable. He let them be after he realized that they saw him as only a master. Someone above them. That, in turn, made him nervous. He would have to do what he could to change that in the future. 

Aside from that, he was having fun, though. Smokescreen had always been the adventurous one, and Prowl had always been the brave one. Bluestreak had been the mech to stay home and do... 'normal' things. 

But now that he was here, with the opportunity right in front of him, he was enjoying it, this exploring and venturing around alone. 

He wandered down a hall, suddenly realizing that this part of the house seemed... darker. Scruffier. Dirty and worn. There was dust on the furniture, as though the servants didn't come here. That was... odd. 

He reached for one of the doors, and his hand was on the knob when a low rumble echoed through him, vibrating his doorwings, making his plating shudder. He turned around slowly, optics wide, and came nose to snout with a monster.


	4. Chapter 3: Monsters

Chapter 3: Monsters

“Eep!” Bluestreak squeaked, and flattened himself against the door, doorwings tucked tightly to his back, hands fisted over his chassis. His wide optics trailed over the form in front of him. 

It looked like a cross between a mech and a cyberwolf. Yellow armor was flared angrily, the long spikes around the head and shoulders fluffed out. Long, clawed digits were splayed over the ground. Its back legs were double-jointed, like a Seeker's, so that it was always walking on its toes. Its spinal strut was arched, forcing it to hunch over. Its helm was black, with two back-swept yellow fins. A long, pointed snout full of fangs was so close to his face that Bluestreak could feel the heavy, hot exvents fluttering over his plating. 

“Please,” the gray mech pleaded, not knowing what, exactly, he was asking for. But his fear slowly abated as the thing did nothing. And, as the panic receded, recognition rose in its place. The yellow armor, the helm fins...

“Sunstreaker?”

The monster – mech – snarled and turned its – his – helm away, glaring at the floor. There was another deep growl, that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a certain playful laugh, and Bluestreak glanced down the hallway. Another of the wolflike monsters was sitting there, all red and black plating, a wicked grin on his snout. 

“Sideswipe?”

The wolf-mech nodded, grin widening. Bluestreak flinched at the sight of the sharp fangs, and Sideswipe gave a snort. 

Sunstreaker growled lowly again and turned to nudge Bluestreak. The Praxian flinched again at the touch of the snout. The fangs were mere millimeters away from his side. Millimeters from vital components and delicate pieces...

With another snort, Sideswipe stalked over and nudged his brother out of the way. After he had Bluestreak's attention, he jerked his chin in the direction the gray mech had come from.

The intent was clear. _Get out._

Bluestreak scrambled to do just that.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Mirage, a slim, blue and white mech, found him in the party room at the same table he had sat at with Hound the previous night. 

“Master Bluestreak,” the servant said, inclining his helm slightly. Bluestreak blinked up at him. 

“You aren't scared of me,” he blurted, then slapped his hands over his mouth. 

Mirage smiled. “No, I am not. Unlike most others here, I was not always a servant.”

“You weren't? Well, then, how- No, I shouldn't ask that. It's not any of my business, and you don't have to answer, and-”

“Master Bluestreak, I don't mind. I’ve gotten over it.”

“Huh?”

The blue and white mech sat down. “It was a long time ago. I was stupid and young... I came here to party and have a good night, and lost... too much. I was over-charged and foolish, and I bet myself. I lost.”

“Like my cousin Smokescreen did. He accidentally bet my contract... The government wrote that up, you know. He never needed it, though... He would have helped me even without it.”

“Yes, I thought as much. I heard him when he realized what he lost. But it was brave of you to come. He told me you offered before he left.”

“I did.” Bluestreak paused, glancing down at the table. “I didn't think... I was... This is...”

“You saw the Lords.”

The gray mech looked up, optics full of fear. “What's...?”

“That is not my story to tell. If I were you, I would ask them tonight, before the party.”

Bluestreak nodded slowly. “I... I don't know...”

Mirage smiled faintly. “I understand. Do so when you are ready. Now, I have duties to attend to. However, like all the servants here, I am at your command. Should you ever need to talk...”

Bluestreak managed a strained little smile.“Thanks, Mirage.”

“No problem at all, Master Bluestreak.”

And the former noble was gone. Bluestreak remained where he was, in his quiet corner of the lonely room.

Until he heard a crash from outside the doors, and a gasped cry of, “My Lords!”

He jumped to his feet and hurried to the door, opening it quickly, then jumping back as he saw the matching red and yellow frames. He glanced past them to see one of the servants staring, wide-optic'd, at the two Lords, the shattered, sticky remains of a cube of energon at his pedes. 

Bluestreak looked back to the two lords of the house, who were looking at him curiously, tails swishing gently back and forth. 

They looked.... They looked like kicked turbo-puppies, the gray mech thought to himself. Well, Sideswipe did. Sunstreaker looked a bit more dignified, more like a beaten, but nowhere near broken, cyberwolf. 

Bluestreak couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. But they were still so frightening. All sharp edges, pointy teeth and claws. They were predators. There was no doubt about that. 

“I...” he started, frowning in confusion and frustration. “I- I’m sorry, I-” he broke off, vocalizer hissing static. He took a shuddering intake, then hurried past the two half-wolf figures and up the stairs. A moment later, he was leaning against his door, blinking at the firelight, cycling his vents heavily. 

What the frag was going on here?

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

That night, once again, heavy music rumbled through the whole house. Bluestreak chose to stay in his room. He hadn’t left since he had retreated there earlier that orn. Hound had come to see him, to tell him that he would be unavailable for the night, but that both Mirage and Trailbreaker were only a comm call away. 

Bluestreak had given only monosyllabic replies, and Hound left with a sad, sympathetic smile on his face. 

The rest of the night, the gray mech spent sitting on his berth, doorwings tucked tight to his back and knees pulled up to his chassis. 

He dozed off once or twice, but never for long. The time was spent watching his chronometer tick down the kliks. 

Until morning was approaching, and there was a knock on his door. He did not answer, said nothing, just looked up. 

It opened to reveal two tall, broad-shouldered figures, one with devilish helm horns, the other with sweeping audio fins. 

The gray mech just stared as they stepped in. 

“Bluestreak,” Sideswipe started, shifting nervously. 

Sunstreaker shook his helm and vented. “Mirage told us that you were a- a bit freaked out.”

Bluestreak just stared. 

“So we... Well, you can ask us whatever you want. We... we didn't want to scare you. Usually, we don't allow anyone in our wing of the house during the day... I... We didn't think to warn you.”

“We're... sorry.”

They stood awkwardly for a long moment, then glanced at each other. Sideswipe vented again. “You can come and ask us anything whenever you want. We... can't speak when we're... during the day. We have comms, but things sound... weird. But... We're serious. Whenever you want, whatever. We'll answer it if we can.”

With that, they nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.


	5. Chapter 4: Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter!

Chapter 4: Questions

Bluestreak stayed in his room for three orns straight. Hound and Mirage brought him energon, and every morning, before the sun rose but after their guests had gone, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker came to check on him. They never said much, and never stayed long.

The gray mech was alone with his thoughts for the long joors. He jumped between bemoaning his fate, missing Smokescreen and Prowl, and wondering what had happened to make this place, so... cursed. So dark. And to make the Twins change into those... _things_ every day.

On the fourth orn of his self-confinement, he decided that it was about time for him to snap out of it and buck up. Prowl wouldn't have spent this long moping! Smokescreen would have already been working on a way to get out! And here _he_ was just sitting around whining like a sparkling. 

Cycling his vents quickly, he forced himself to his pedes and slowly walked toward the door. It was evening now. He could see the sun touching the horizon out one of his windows. He had time before the guests appeared. 

One more heavy cycle, and he opened the door. 

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Finding the Twins wasn't hard. They followed the same schedule every orn. They didn't leave their wing of the manor house until about a joor after sundown. What they did there, though, none of the servants could tell him. 

Girding himself, he slowly walked up the stairs and turned down the hallway leading to their wing. His doorwings trembled, and his vents were working overtime. 

He had only gone half way down the hall when Sideswipe opened the door at the end and stepped out, smiling sadly at the gray mech. 

“Bluestreak,” he said, blinking. “Hi. It's... good to see you up.”

“Thanks,” the gray mech whispered, shifting nervously. “I'm... I’ve got, ah, a couple questions?”

“Okay. Come on in.” The red mech stepped aside and gestured to the room behind him. 

Bluestreak hesitantly moved forward, glancing around as he stepped inside the dark room. Firelight flickered over dull inlays. There were no fancy bits of random furniture as there were in his room; instead, the only objects taking up space were a wide, padded couch and a smaller, equally padded chair. Sunstreaker was sitting on the couch, staring into the fire. 

“Um... take a seat?” Sideswipe said, gesturing to the chair, stepping forward and seating himself next to his brother. 

Bluestreak did as the lord of the house offered, slowly lowering himself onto the well-padded chair. He took a moment to shift around so his doorwings were comfortable before staring at the two mechs sitting on the couch. Sideswipe was watching him, a curious look in his optics. Sunstreaker was staring into the middle-distance, a very faint frown on his face. 

Sideswipe broke the long silence. “Well... ask away.”

“Okay... I... um... would you mind telling me why... how this happened?”

“This being...?”

“Mute it, Sides,” Sunstreaker growled lowly, rolling his optics. “You know very well what.”

Sideswipe laughed a self-depreciating chuckle. “Eh, sorry. Old habits?” He gave a little shrug. “Truth is, Sunny and I were mean to the wrong mech, and he kinda... cursed us.”

“Mean to the 'wrong mech'? Sides we acted that way all the time.”

“Mm, true, true.”

“Cursed you?” Bluestreak asked, barely believing his audios. “You mean, like, fairy tale cursed?”

Sunstreaker scowled. “Yes. Only it isn't a fairy tale. It's... During the day, we're stuck like... like what you saw. And we can't transform other than that, either.”

“What? You mean...”

Sideswipe's smirk melted into a glower. “No. No alt modes, other than... _that_... Which sucks. I miss racing.”

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “We're basically stuck here, too. There isn't anywhere within an orn's walk, and... Well, you've seen what we're like during the day.”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak said with a shudder. “Okay, so you're... cursed, you can't transform, you can leave, but there isn't anywhere you can go... Where do all your... guests come from?”

Sideswipe shrugged. “We don't know. Some of them are like your cousin. Just travelers who see a light and want a place to stay... Some of them are... different. They show up, they disappear. You never see them come in or leave, they always have credits, never run out... Like they don't really exist. Some people come from the nearest town over.”

Bluestreak nodded slowly. “I guess that... sort of makes sense?”

The red Twin smiled, and his counterpart's frown softened a bit. “Good. I... is there anything else?”

“No, I think that's it for now.”

His smile widened. “Then would you mind accompanying us tonight? We haven't had someone to escort in some time.”

Bluestreak hesitated. They had done as promised, and... they really hadn't done anything to harm him. But he couldn't get the image of that sharp plating, those deadly fangs, the stalking gait they moved with... 

“I... not today. I just... I'd like to, but...”

“It's okay.” 

“Sorry.”

“Bluestreak, it's fine,” Sideswipe said with a smile.

Bluestreak stuttered out another apology, then a frantic farewell, then fled.


	6. Chapter 5: Fairy Tales

Chapter 5: Fairy Tales

Again, Bluestreak spent the night in his room. Hound had gotten him a datapad with a few stories and a couple games on it, and told him that he could visit the library sometime if he wanted to, before he left. 

The night went by quickly. The games were rather simple, but entertaining, and the stories... Bluestreak laughed when he opened one of the files and saw a familiar title; a fairy tale. 

Well, that explained the glint in Hound's optic as he had handed over the 'pad. 

With a smile, Bluestreak settled in to read, sitting comfortably on the couch in front of the fire, pedes tucked under him, doorwings settled easily on the cushions. 

He read the night away, and was surprised sometime before sunrise when there was a knock on his door. He jumped, then called out, “It's open!”

The door opened to reveal the broad-shouldered silhouettes of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. 

“Good morning,” Sunstreaker said, and Bluestreak blinked. They were just standing there... and now that he thought about it, that was all they had ever done. They had never once come in...

“Um... come in?” he tried hesitantly, and could barely see the small, half-smile on Sideswipe's face. 

“Thanks, Blue,” he said, and he and his brother stepped inside the room, leaving the door open behind them. “We don't have much time until sunrise, but... We wanted to ask how your night was?”

“Good. Hound got me this datapad, and...”

“Hey, that looks familiar,” Sideswipe said, stepping forward again. 

Sunstreaker stepped up next to him and glanced at the datapad. “Of course it does. That was your favorite story when we were younglings...”

“The fairy tale stories?”

Bluestreak laughed. “Yeah. I thought it was funny that Hound brought me this one.”

Sideswipe nodded, smiling, then hunched over as a shudder ran through his frame. “Urgh,” he grunted as he straightened. Beside him, Sunstreaker's face was twisted into a pained grimace. “Sunrise. We've gotta.... We'll see you l- ugh... later.”

Bluestreak watched with wide optics as the Twins staggered from the room, the door closing behind them. 

.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.

For a long time, he simply stared at the door. It was... painful? It sure looked like they had been in pain. 

And they went through that every morning? 

Bluestreak cycled his vents heavily, then rose from the couch, subspacing his datapad. Then he paused. What could he do?

“I can't stop it from hurting them,” he murmured to himself. “I... this is...”

One more heavy vent, and he left the room. Slowly, he walked through the manor, pedes taking him to the dusty, dark, West Wing. He paused when he realized where he was. _Their_ hall. 

Another vent. Well, he was here now, and he was going to be here for two hundred vorns... might as well get used to... the way they were. 

Right? 

Slowly, he walked to the door at the end of the hall and lifted his fist, ready to knock. The door swung open before he could land his knuckles to the metal. 

A black helm was cocked to the side, blue optics flickering curiously. Bluestreak jerked back slightly, then looked down. 

“H- Hi?” he stuttered

Sideswipe gave a little yip, fangs bared in a feral grin. Then he jerked his helm backwards slightly, backing away from the doorway. Beckoning Bluestreak into the room. 

Hesitantly, arms and hands held close to his chassis, the gray mech stepped inside, glancing around nervously. 

A steady EM field pressed up against his, and he turned to see Sunstreaker, optics half-closed, crouched beside him. Sideswipe's more turbulent field fluttered against his on his other side.

For a long moment, he remained tense, doorwings twitching. But the EM fields... they were so... _normal_. Sunstreaker's was so steady. He was temperamental, but... Bluestreak was beginning to think that was a front. He had been so... kind. A bit distant, but... not at all cruel. He reminded Bluestreak vaguely of Prowl. In a yellow, less logical sort of way. 

And Sideswipe... he was more mischievous than anything. He liked to laugh. And even though the laughter sometimes came at the expense of others, he wasn't... spiteful. He was like a youngling, Bluestreak thought. Almost like he didn't know any better. 

But he had been kind. They had backed off when he asked. Sideswipe had not called him “Li'l Boy Blue” again. They had treated him like an honored guest, not a contracted apprentice. By all rights, they could have stuck him in the servants' quarters and put him to work for two hundred vorns. 

He offlined his optics for a long moment, twitching his doorwings, paying attention to only the fields. Sideswipe rumbled a curious growl, but Bluestreak ignored it. 

For that moment, he could forget entirely that they were anything other than normal mechs. 

Then he opened his optics, and once again saw the fangs, the sharp edges, the claws, the sinuous, wolf-like features. 

He shuddered, plating rattling, and took another heavy intake. Sideswipe whined. 

“It's... It's okay. I’m okay. Or I will be... I just... You're...”

Another whine, this one understanding and regretful. They both took a couple steps back. Their EM fields pulled away from his, and Bluestreak felt the panic rising in him again. _Predators!,_ his processor screamed. _Run! Fight! Do something!_

“No, no, come closer, come back, it's- your EM fields, they're not- I need- feel...”

Sharing a confused glance,Sunstreaker hesitantly stepped closer, the field brushing up against Bluestreak's once again. The gray mech pushed his field back, winding them together, pulling that part of Sunstreaker that was still _normal_ into him. 

The panic receded. 

Sideswipe stepped up as well, field winding together with the gray mech's. Sunstreaker growled lowly, helm cocked to the side. 

Bluestreak closed his optics again, cycling his vents. “I... your fields feel normal,” he said in answer to their curiosity. He could hear it in the growl, feel it in their entwined fields. “When I can't feel them, my processor... it sees you and automatically starts up self-protection protocols. I... You guys look like cyberwolves. Kinda. And... Your fields... stop that?”

Sideswipe huffed something that sounded like a laugh, and Sunstreaker rolled his optics. 

“I... I just thought... I’m going to be here... I should...”

The red wolf-mech huffed again, and nodded, fangs once again showing in a grin. When Bluestreak flinched, he took a half step back, enough to give him space, but not enough to bring their fields out of contact. 

Bluestreak cycled his vents again and forcibly settled his armor. 

“Um... I could... I could...” He scrambled for something to do. Then he remembered the datapad. “I could... read?”

Sideswipe yipped, nose jerking upward. His tail twitched, and his glossa lolled out the side of his mouth. Once again, he reminded Bluestreak of a turbopuppy. Sunstreaker rumbled at him, and Bluestreak was surprised at how similar it was to the frustrated revving of his engine when he was annoyed with his brother. He could practically hear the yellow Twin saying the familiar, _”You look like an idiot, Sides.”_

The gray mech chuckled, then started walking toward the couch. The two wolf-mechs flanked him, keeping their fields in contact. 

Settling comfortably on the couch was a bit of a challenge; Bluestreak flinched whenever they touched him. Eventually, the Twins curled together on the floor in a tangle of red, yellow, and black limbs, and Bluestreak sat, curled up, on the couch above them. 

He pulled out the datapad and flicked it on, choosing one of the tales he had read that night. After a moment of staring at the screen, he began to read. 

“Once upon a time, a young prince lived in a shining castle...”

He read through the first story, then the second, then started on a third. Halfway through the third, he found himself trailing off mid-sentence, helm and doorwings drooping, optics flickering. Sideswipe lifted his helm and gave a worried, curious whine. Bluestreak lazily flapped a hand. 

“Jus' tired... up all night... I’m jus'... gonna... take a little...”

And he fell into the velvety darkness of recharge.


	7. Chapter 6: Admissions

Chapter 6: Admissions

He woke to a dim room. The curtains were pulled back from the windows, and there was a fire burning low in the grate. The now familiar pounding of music echoed through the manor.

And the Twins were gone. 

He stood slowly, twitching his doorwings to work out the kinks, and looked around. 

They were gone, but there was a datapad sitting on the chair. He stepped over to it, picked it up, and turned it on. 

There was only one file on it, and it opened automatically. 

A letter. 

_Blue,_

_You fell asleep around midday, and we could both tell you were very tired, so we decided it would be best not to wake you._

_We both appreciate you coming, and reading to us. We understand that our daylight forms are... well, rather frightening, and are grateful that you are willing to still face us._

_-Sunstreaker and Sideswipe_

Bluestreak smiled. It was nice of them to write the letter. Making up his mind, he set the datapad down on the chair and headed for the door. The walk to the kitchen was fast. 

Once he got there, however, he was practically mobbed by Mirage and Hound.

“Master Bluestreak!” the former noble cried when he saw the gray mech, rushing forward, hands fluttering inches above the gray plating. 

“Mirage, I’m fine,” Bluestreak chuckled, smiling at Hound, who was hovering just inside EM range. “Better than fine, actually. I’ve...”

The blue and white mech backed off a bit, smiling. “I know... The Lords were smiling this evening, when they came downstairs. I was just worried, when you weren't in your room.”

Bluestreak nodded, still smiling. “Where are the Twins?”

“Where else?” Hound said, optics bright. “The Lords are in the party room, taking hapless bots' money.”

A laugh, a real one, left his vocalizer. “That is what they do best, isn't it?” Bluestreak said, grin widening. 

Mirage and Hound exchanged a glance.

“What?”

“It's just... you're here be- because of that.”

Bluestreak shrugged, doorwings twitching. “I... you were right, Hound. It's not so bad here. I miss my cousin, but... I’m... getting used to it here. I think... I think I could learn to be happy.”

There was a moment of silence, which Hound broke. “Well, I’m glad of that.”

“Good. Um, could I have some energon? I don’t want high-grade, and...”

“Oh, yes. I’ll get you some, Master Bluestreak. Just wait a moment...” Mirage hurried off, leaving the gray mech staring after him, amused. 

“Is he always like this?” Bluestreak asked Hound, who was also staring fondly after the former noble.

“Sometimes,” the green mech said with a grin. “To be quite honest, he was raised as a younger noble, someone to be bonded off and to produce heirs. I thing you've activated his carrier coding.”

“What?” Bluestreak yelped, blinking rapidly. “But, but, I’m a grown mech! I have been for – for vorns! How-? Why-?”

Hound chuckled. “I don't know. I will admit, there is something... endearing... about you.”

Bluestreak continued blinking until Mirage came back, a cube of energon in hand. 

“Here, Master Bluestreak. Your energon.”

Still silent, the gray mech took the energon and drank it in one gulp. “Thank you, Mirage. I’m going to go find Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, now, thank you, talk to you later, bye!”

He whirled around and hurried out of the room, following the throbbing beat of the music to the party room. 

Finding the Twins was easy. Sunstreaker was where he had been the last two times Bluestreak had been here; behind the bar, where he was handing out energon cubes, knocking back one of his own every now and then. Sideswipe was also where he seemed to be most often; at the gambling tables. 

Deciding that he would much rather sit somewhere less crowded, Bluestreak edged around the crowd, aiming for the bar and Sunstreaker.

The yellow mech saw him coming, and his usual frown softened into an almost-smile. Bluestreak smiled back. 

A moment later, the gray mech was sitting on a barstool, doorwings flicking in time with the beat of the music. There was a ping on his comm, and he answered it. 

::You want anything, Blue?:: a familiar voice asked as Sunstreaker quirked a half-smile at him. 

::Um... Anything not high-grade?::

::What, you don't like getting over-charged?::

Bluestreak shook his helm, letting his hand rest on the counter. A moment late, he was tapping his fingers. ::No, I hate it, actually. I... just no high-grade?::

::Alright,:: the yellow Twin said with a nod. A moment later, a fancy cube full of shimmering energon was set in front of him. ::Drink up. It's one of my favorites. If you want anything else, or don't like it, give me a ping.::

Bluestreak smiled his thanks and picked up the cube. He sat and sipped it, letting the EM fields and noise of the room wash around him, through him. He let his mind slip, and spent the night sitting there, watching everything pass by in an unfocused blur. 

He jumped when someone touched his shoulder. 

Sideswipe. 

“Hey, Blue,” he greeted, smirking. “You been here all night?”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak said, fluttering his doorwings in a stretch. 

Sideswipe's optics tracked their movement for a moment, before the red Twin glanced across the room. Sunstreaker was waiting by the door. “Well,” he said, taking a step back. “It's almost sunrise. We'll... see you soon?” the mech asked as he backed across the dance floor.

“Yes, of course. Oh! Sideswipe, Sunstreaker!” Bluestreak called as he jumped off his stool and hurried over to them. “I almost forgot. Thanks for leaving the letter.”

They both smiled. “Thank you for coming,” Sunstreaker returned, and they both turned again. 

“Wait!”

Amused, they glanced over their shoulders, indulgent smiles on their faces, identical save for the fact that Sunstreaker's was smaller and Sideswipe's was filled with mischief. 

“I... would it be okay if I came over again?”

The smiles faded into surprised expressions, and the two exchanged a glance.

“You're... sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, like I said last night, I’m going to be here for a long time, so I should probably get used to you, and it wouldn't hurt to do it as soon as possible...”

Sideswipe chuckled faintly. “Blue... We stay in our wing all day. You can just avoid us then if you want to.”

“But-”

“No. Did you know why we accepted your contract?”

“I... no, I don't.”

“We-” Sideswipe started, then groaned. “Tell you after sunset,” he ground out, and the red and yellow forms raced to, and disappeared up, the stairs. 

Bluestreak stared for a moment, then hurried after them. 

Their door was locked when he came to it. He knocked, loudly. “Come on, guys! Let me in!”

A moment later, the door clicked, and he pushed it open. Sunstreaker was leaning against the wall just inside the frame, panting. All Bluestreak could see of Sideswipe was the tip of his tail dangling over the edge of the couch. 

Determined, Bluestreak activated his comm system and pinged the yellow Twin. Sunstreaker jerked slightly, then cast the gray mech a thoughtful look. After a long moment, he accepted the link. 

::Sunstreaker?::

::Bl-l-luest-t-treak-k?:: the response came back, stuttered and full of static. 

::Is... is this how it... always is?::

::Ye-es,:: another voice answered, and when he looked over, Bluestreak could see Sideswipe sitting on the couch, chin resting on the back, optics focused on him. 

::I... see. Is it hard for you to talk?::

::No. I-it's-s jus-st hard-d for pe-e-eople to understa-a-n-nd us. An-nd we hat-te the wa-a-ay we sound-d-d.::

Bluestreak frowned. “No, it's not. It just sounds like a long-distance comm.”

Sideswipe blinked curiously. ::Oh-h?::

“Yeah, I do them all the time with my brother. He's... on a trip. And it always sounds kinda like that. It's not hard to understand. For me, at least. But... if you don't like it, I can wait until nighttime.”

Sunstreaker nodded, and they terminated the connection. Bluestreak vented, then stepped forward. Immediately, he backed up again, cycling air rapidly. 

Sunstreaker cocked his helm to the side, and Sideswipe gave a confused whine. Bluestreak shook his helm and laughed gently. 

“I... we automatically merged EM fields when I came in,” he told the yellow Twin. “I didn't even think about it...”

Nodding in understanding, Sunstreaker stepped forward and tilted his helm to the couch and chair. Bluestreak nodded, and walked over, sitting comfortably on the chair, watching as Sunstreaker leapt onto the couch and curled up with his brother. 

“I... I guess I’ll just read again, if... if that's alright?”

Sideswipe gave a cheerful yip, glossa once again dangling from the side of his mouth. Bluestreak smiled as he pulled the datapad from his subspace, where it had been sitting since the night before. 

“Once upon a time, as a merchant set off for market, he asked each of his three creations what they would like as a present upon his return...”

Once again, Bluestreak read until he fell asleep. When he woke, however, the Twins were still there, curled around each other in mech form on the couch. They were awake, watching him, but it looked like they hadn't yet moved. 

The gray mech smiled. “Morning. Or, well, night, I guess.”

“Indeed,” Sideswipe said, slowly pushing himself up. Sunstreaker did the same, and they both sat, staring at Bluestreak.

It was then that the gray mech realized he could hear the faint beat of music. His optics widened. “You aren't at your party.”

“No. We need to talk... I never got to tell you why-”

“Why you accepted my contract. Right,” Bluestreak interrupted, then slapped his hands over his mouth. 

Sideswipe just chuckled. “Yes. I... We took it because... well... company?”

“Huh?” Bluestreak said eloquently, blinking a couple times. 

Sunstreaker shook his helm. “Bluestreak... the only mechs in this manor before you came were us, the servants, and the guests, half of which are just... fabrications to give the image of a party. Made by the curse when people... forgot about us. And the others aren't any better, really. Stupid mechs looking for a night of fun, or travelers like your cousin.”

“We've won people before... Mirage, you already know, but there are others. But... the contract. We've never... Not like that. It's always been their servitude, themselves... Never was it...”

“We've never won someone like we have you,” Sunstreaker said. “Sideswipe was going to give the datapad back at first. We have enough servants here... but then he saw... and I saw...”

“That I was only an apprentice, right?” Bluestreak asked, quiet. “That I wouldn't be like... everyone else.”

“Yeah. We only hoped for some sort of interaction other than what we had. Something a little more... equal. We never would have guessed we would get what we did... what you're giving us,” Sideswipe said, smiling sadly. 

“And what... what is that?”

“I... You can't guess?”

“Uh... sorry?”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shared a glance, and Sunstreaker spoke. “You... You've been... actively giving us a chance.”

“A... chance?”

“To care. To be cared for. We've never really had that before,” Sideswipe said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Bluestreak stared for a long moment. A chance? Why wouldn't he give them a chance? Everyone deserved at least that, didn't they? “I...”

The Twins gave him slow, rather bittersweet smiles. “Yeah,” Sideswipe said, then stood. “We should get downstairs.”

With that, the Lords of the manor left, leaving a thoughtful Bluestreak behind them.


	8. Chapter 7: Unexpected

Chapter 7: Unexpected

The orns steadily grew into cycles, which grew into groons, which, eventually, turned into a vorn. 

As the time passed, Bluestreak settled into life in the manor. He spent the nights sleeping or watching the crowd in the party room and the days reading to the wolf-mech Twins or talking with Mirage, Hound, and/or Trailbreaker. Mirage's carrier protocols were still activated. They had driven Bluestreak crazy at first, but he had quickly become accustomed to the way the blue and white mech acted around him. Though the constant pampering did, on occasion, get on his nerves. 

Hound was as cheerful and fun as ever, and the gray mech would often spend joors talking with him. 

Trailbreaker, the mech who seemed to constantly be on guard at the door, had become what Bluestreak would consider a friend on a night when the gray mech had once again been simply wandering the manor. He had somehow ended up at the door, and finding someone who wasn't _scared_ of him because he was a guest, a “master,” had been a relief. They, too, spent joors talking, though Trailbreaker never left his post at the door. 

As for Bluestreak's relationship with the Twins... It had changed drastically in the vorn since the gray mech had arrived. 

Every morning, when he went to go read to them, they had wormed their way closer to him, until, eventually, they were able to cuddle up next to him without any flinches warning them away. Bluestreak was still occasionally overcome by a bout of nervousness around them, but he allowed them to touch, and touched in return, much to the Twins' excitement, and those fleeting moments of fear were increasingly infrequent. 

But he was still uneasy. He still felt as though he wasn't quite fitting, that something was missing, and he just didn't know what. 

Despite that, though, and the fact that he had come here unwillingly, he was... happy. Content. He had everything he could ever want; a comfortable berth, good company, good energon, a warm place to stay. The Twins had told him that, should he wish it, he could go to the next town over for a time, as long as he told them, took an escort, and came back within three orns. 

He never took them up on that offer. There was no reason for him to go, and, as he had decided before, he was happy where he was. 

Even now, as he stared out his window at the dense crystal forests, thinking of home, he knew that, had he the chance to choose between going home and staying here, he would have a very difficult time of it. 

“Blue?” a soft voice called, and he turned around, leaning out of the window seat to look over at the door. Sunstreaker. Even now, they always waited for him to invite them in. 

“Come on in, Sunstreaker.”

The yellow mech moved slowly into the room, pede steps quiet on the soft, fluffy carpet. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I was just thinking.”

“Care to share?”

Bluestreak shrugged. “Just thinking of ho... my old home. Smokescreen. Prowl.”

“You miss them.”

The gray mech turned to face the yellow. Sunstreaker had a strange expression on his face, a sort of world-weary resignation. “Is that wrong of me?”

Sunstreaker just shook his helm, venting as he slowly lowered himself to sit on the couch. “We can... if you want... invite them here?”

Bluestreak blinked, doorwings twitching happily upward, and a bright light filled his optics. “Really?”

“Why should we not? I... I believe they live close enough to visit.”

“I would like that. I'd like it a lot! Thank you, Sunstreaker.”

The yellow mech smiled faintly. “Do you wish to compose a letter? I can send Hound out with it before the sun rises.”

“I... Okay. That's a good idea!”

A moment later, he had a datapad in hand and was scribbling away, Sunstreaker watching him thoughtfully. Breems before he finished, Sideswipe walked into the room and sat down next to his brother. 

When his stylus finally lifted from the screen, he looked up and smiled at the Twins. “Thank you. I... I never expected any... any of this, at all, when Smokescreen first... told me... I... Thank you.”

Sideswipe shook his helm, and Sunstreaker snorted. “Thanks go to you, Blue,” the red Twin said, smirking. “You gave us more than we could ever ask for. You're... You've actually given us a chance. You've... We...”

“What my idiot brother is trying to say, is that you gave us a chance to care, and we... do.”

“Huh?” Hadn't they already covered this?

“Care. We care,” Sideswipe said, glancing down at the floor.

“I... Oh.” That was all Bluestreak could say. He knew, deep in his spark, that he cared too. But it was a rather sudden announcement, that the chance had developed past that, and he really didn't know how to respond. After a long, awkward silence, the gray mech lifted the datapad. “Should... Should I give this to Hound?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Thank you. I... Thank you.”

And then he was out the door, running down to the party room, where he knew Hound would be helping some of the other servants clean. The datapad exchanged hands, and the green mech left the manor, waving cheerily to Trailbreaker and Bluestreak as he walked down the road. 

Soon after that, the sun rose. The gray mech spent the day wandering the manor, followed occasionally by one of the Twins, though they mostly remained hidden through the day, as the servants, for the most part, were scared of the massive wolf-mechs. 

Hound returned as the sun was setting, Smokescreen in his wake. 

Bluestreak ran down the stairs and out the door, and, after pausing for a moment, flung himself into Smokescreen's arms. 

“Smokey,” he said, finally pulling away, a wide grin on his face. “It's so good to see you! How have you been? Is Prowl back? What's happened?”

“Blue, slow down, let me get a word in! And Primus, it's good to see you...”

“Oh, I know...” 

Bluestreak tightened his grasp again, tucking his helm under Smokescreen's chin. 

Then the blue and red Praxian stiffened, and Bluestreak pulled away. “What? What is it?”

Then he turned around. The Twins were standing just outside the door, small, soft smiles on their faces. 

“ _You_ ,” Smokescreen rumbled, maneuvering Bluestreak behind him, the blue and red mech standing resolutely in front of his cousin. 

“Us?” Sideswipe replied, tilting his helm slightly to the side. 

“You... you took him away!” the blue and red Praxian snarled, stalking forward. 

Bluestreak remained frozen for a moment. Then he lunged forward, clutching at his cousin's arm. “Smokey, stop!”

“They-”

“No! Smokescreen! Stop! _Stop!_ ”

Smokescreen stopped, though he continued glaring at the Twins. “What is going on, Bluestreak?”

“They... They're nice. I... don't do anything to them. They take care of me.”

“I was taking care of you!”

“Smokescreen!”

“What!”

The older Praxian turned his glare on Bluestreak. Bluestreak glared right back. 

For a second, they held each others' gazes. Then Smokescreen blinked. This wasn't like the gray mech. He was usually so timid... He never held an angry gaze, yet, now, he was standing, defiantly, unyielding, in front of him... “What... Blue?”

“Don't hurt them. Don't... Just be nice, okay?”

“I... I...”

“They're good mechs. Trust me. Please, Smokescreen.”

The blue and red mech hissed out a long vent. “What's happened here, Blue?”

The gray mech smiled faintly, glancing over at the red and yellow Twins waiting for them. “A lot of things, Smokey. But... I like it here.”

“You...” Another long vent, and Smokescreen looked from his cousin to the mechs who held his contract. “I... Fine.”

“Smokescreen, welcome back,” Sideswipe said, all courteous manners and sly smile. Sunstreaker rolled his optics and slapped his brother on the back of the helm. 

“Shut it, Sides. Smokescreen, welcome, again, to Sunside Manor. It is good to finally meet you. I apologize for my behavior on your previous... visit.”

“... Accepted.”

“Please,” Sideswipe said, grin still wide and smug, “come in. The party is due to start in a joor or so, so we have some quiet time to talk.”

Smokescreen nodded stiffly and followed the Twins inside, casting sideways glances at Bluestreak all the while. The gray mech looked slightly nervous, but... Smokescreen was startled when he realized that nervousness was not directed at all at the Twins, or the house, or the servants he could see peeking out at them from the doors. No, it was directed at him. Bluestreak was comfortable here, and he, the mech's own cousin, was making him _un_ comfortable. 

Smokescreen's doorwings drooped slightly, and he stopped, reaching for Bluestreak's arm. 

The gray mech twitched when the blue hand closed around him, but stopped and turned to his cousin. 

“Blue... I don't want you to be nervous around me. I just... I...”

“You blame yourself for losing him,” a deep voice interrupted, and Smokescreen jumped. The Twins had stopped as well, and had turned to face the two Praxians. 

Smokescreen fought off the urge to reprimand them for listening in on a private conversation. “I... Yeah. I’m...”

“You shouldn't. I cheat.”

“You- What?”

Sideswipe grinned unrepentantly. “I cheat. And... I was going to give the contract back, but... I... We...”

“Smokes? Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and I have talked,” Bluestreak said, forcing a little smile. “We're good. I... Don't blame yourself. This was for the best. I’m happy here.”

Smokescreen just frowned. There was a long silence, then Sideswipe bowed slightly and swept his hand toward the party room. “Energon?”

Huffing, the visiting Praxian stomped into the room. Bluestreak followed, pausing momentarily to smile sadly at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker as he passed. 

Smokescreen and Bluestreak sat down at one of the tables as the Lords of the manor walked behind the bar to get energon. 

“So...” the gray mech started, “Have you talked to Prowl at all?”

“Yes, I have actually... He said he's found a home. I... He was very displeased with me.”

Bluestreak smiled. “Yes, I can imagine why. Is he going to come soon?”

“Yeah,” Smokescreen said, venting and slouching down. “I passed on your message. He's on his way now.”

The smile on the gray mech's face widened, and his doorwings fluttered happily. “I can't wait to see him! Did he mention where he went?”

“Only mentioned this new home is in Iacon. I’m... not sure how I feel about that.”

“Iacon,” Sideswipe interrupted as he set down cubes in front of the two Praxians. “Isn't that that city by the Rust Sea?”

“The one with the draken?”

Smokescreen nodded. “Yes. I’m... Yeah.”

“Wow. Brave mech.”

Bluestreak smiled. “He is.”

The conversation continued in much this manner; the Twins and Bluestreak asking after the outside world, and Smokescreen somewhat nervously and awkwardly sharing what he knew. Then people started appearing, and music started throbbing, and Sideswipe grinned evilly. 

“Come on, Smokey! I’ll play you for real, this time. No cheating, and any credits either of us win, we give back?”

Smokescreen stared at the red Twin, somewhat alarmed, and Bluestreak chuckled. “Go, Smokey. Have fun. If Sides promises he won't cheat, he won't.”

Slowly, hesitantly, the blue and red Praxian stood and followed his host over to one of the card tables, while Sunstreaker and Bluestreak wandered over to the bar. The night passed in a blur of moving mechs and warm energon, and soon, the guests were gone. 

Smokescreen and Sideswipe were still playing. The Praxian had loosened up a bit after a couple rounds, and was now laughing as he played, completely sober save for the incoherence caused by exhaustion. 

Sunstreaker and Bluestreak sat down at the table, watching as cards and credit-chips changed hands, adding to the friendly banter flying back and forth. 

Then Sideswipe and Sunstreaker hunched over, shudders running through their plating. Bluestreak froze, and Smokescreen scowled worriedly. 

“Lord Sideswipe...?” he started, then jumped as Bluestreak shot up and tugged at his arm. 

“Smokey, come on, we don't- you don't- this isn't something you should see.” Bluestreak had asked to see the transformation once, and had not asked again. It was just as painful as the Twins' expressions indicated, and so strange looking and sickening to watch. He didn't want to see it again, and he knew it would be a _very_ bad idea for Smokescreen to witness it. 

The scowl deepened. “What's going on, Blue?”

“I'll explain later! We need to-”

A low moan filled the room, and Sideswipe toppled off the chair. Sunstreaker was curled over the table, vents coming ragged and uneven. Bluestreak took a shuddering invent of his own. “Smokescreen, we need to leave. Now.”

“What-? Bluestreak, what is going on?!”

“Move! _Now!_ ” the gray mech snarled, shoving his cousin toward the door. Stunned at Bluestreak's forwardness, Smokescreen stumbled in the direction his cousin was pushing him. 

They made it out of the room just as one of the Twins howled, and Smokescreen turned with wide optics to stare at the closed doors. Then he turned to his cousin. 

“Bluestreak. What the frag?”

The gray mech, who was slumped against the wall outside the door, closed his optics tightly, doorwings twitching against the hard wall. “I... Smokey, they're cursed. I... They just wanted a friend. That's why they kept me. But-”

The door swung open to reveal the two wolf-mechs, and Smokescreen took a couple hurried steps back. Bluestreak immediately moved to stand between the Twins and his cousin. “Smokey, look, I-”

“What the... the... Bluestreak, you're coming home! This isn't- I won't-”

A low, rolling growl rumbled from the Twins, and Smokescreen's armor shook. 

“Blue, I- You...” the blue and red Praxian stuttered. Then he turned and fled, rushing past Trailbreaker, through the door, and down the road. He was gone in kliks. 

Bluestreak stared forlornly after him. Sideswipe whimpered as he pressed up against the mech's side. Sunstreaker sat down close to his other side, their fields easily entwining.

::Th-that went well-l-l.::

Bluestreak just looked down at Sideswipe, expression sad. Sideswipe looked back up at him, and he knew the jest had only been because this was Sideswipe, and that was how he dealt with sad or disappointing things; by joking. A gray hand slowly came to rest on the red wolf-mech's helm, and Sideswipe leaned into the touch, whining. 

::S-sorry,:: Sunstreaker commed, leaning, like his Twin, closer to the gray mech. 

“It's okay. It's not your fault,” Bluestreak murmured, letting his other hand trace over Sunstreaker's helm fins. Both Twins pressed closer into his touch, and together, they stared out into the forest.


	9. Chapter 8: Capture

Chapter 8: Capture

The rest of the orn passed without incident. Bluestreak followed the Twins up to the West Wing, and the three of them curled together on the couch, their forms bathed in firelight, optics dim, fields closely entwined. They slept there, unwilling to move, to leave the comfort provided by familiar fields and warm frames. 

Sunset came quickly, with the Twins shuddering through their transformation and Bluestreak unwilling to leave them. For close to a joor, they simply stayed there, unmoving, curled together in front of the fire. The gray mech was the first to speak, breaking the day-long silence. 

“I'm sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Sunstreaker asked, tightening his grip on the mech, pulling him closer. 

“Yeah. You've done nothing wrong,” Sideswipe agreed as he ran a hand along Bluestreak's closest doorwing.

The gray mech vented, leaning into the soft touches. “I... Smokescreen. If I hadn't invited him, he wouldn't have... wouldn't have seen you.”

“Blue, it's fine. It was an accident, unintentional on all fronts. You've got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I...”

“Mute it. We're the Lords here,” Sideswipe said, grinning cheekily. “We get to be in charge.”

Bluestreak just rolled his optics and settled into their hold, still reluctant to move. 

Music began filtering up from the party room, and still they stayed. Around midnight, there came a knock came on the door. 

“Come in!” Sideswipe called, and it swung open to reveal Hound and Mirage, both with cubes of energon. 

Mirage smirked happily (it was a very strange expression, Bluestreak thought) as he brought his cubes over. Hound followed, grinning widely. “Here you go, my Lords, Master Bluestreak,” Mirage practically hummed as he handed over the energon. Sideswipe eyed him strangely, but accepted the energon. 

Then the two servants left, and the three mechs were left alone again.

They drank their energon, then went down to the party for a short while. Then the party was over, the sun risen, and Bluestreak was wandering the house. The Twins were asleep, and he would join them soon. 

Bluestreak was ambling up the stairs when the shout echoed through the house. He glanced back, then turned and ran for the door, where the shout had originated. 

Trailbreaker was standing in the middle of the frame, arms braced against the thick doorstop, blocking the entrance. 

“TB?” Bluestreak called, and the black mech spared him only a glance. 

“Blue, get upstairs. Now!”

Optics widening, the gray mech scrambled toward the stairs. Trailbreaker didn't shout. Ever. Something was wrong.

There was a loud crash behind him, and another loud yell, but he did not look back. 

Then someone wrapped their arms around him and he fell to the ground, writhing, trying to dislodge the hold. He screamed. 

“Bluestreak! Stop! Blue, it's me!”

The thrashing stopped, and Bluestreak finally turned fear-bright optics on his captor. Black and white armor, wide, sweeping doorwings, bright, golden optics...

“Prowl?”

“Bluestreak... Are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good. Come.”

Prowl stood, lifting Bluestreak with him. 

It was then that the gray mech noticed the emblems on his brother's doorwings. A stylized, red face, overlaid on red, wing-like bars. 

“What's this?”

“The symbol of our new home, where we will soon be. Come.” 

Without letting go of Bluestreak's arm, Prowl started toward the door, hauling his brother after him. 

“Prowl! Stop! Let me go!”

“No, Bluestreak. Smokescreen told me what has happened, and you are coming home. I will pay for the contract if I must, but you will not stay here any longer.”

They had reached the door now, and Bluestreak felt his spark jerk. A lithe, silver mech was pressed up against Trailbreaker, a knife held close to the black mech's throat cabling. “No!” he cried, reaching for the doorkeeper. 

The silver mech didn't move. 

“Prowl, please, Trailbreaker hasn't done anything wrong, leave him be! Let him go! Get away from him!”

The black and white Praxian frowned. “Trailbreaker... If Jazz comes away, will you stay here, and swear not to attack?”

The black mech hissed lowly, optics darting from Bluestreak to Prowl. “... Fine,” he ground out after a moment, and the silver mech, Jazz, slid easily away, dagger subspaced quickly. 

Prowl nodded and continued on, tugging Bluestreak along with him. 

The gray mech stared with wide optics at the company of soldiers – they couldn't be anything but soldiers; they wore heavy armor and were bristling with weapons – who were standing in front of the house, guns drawn. 

“Come,” Prowl said as he passed. “We are finished here.”

“You aren't going to kill the monsters?” one of the mechs asked, and Bluestreak's vents hitched. 

Prowl shook his helm. “They have been here for vorns. Should they attack, then I will do what I can. Until then, they have shown themselves as harmless. Now come.”

Bluestreak tugged at the grip on his arm, but Prowl had always been bigger and stronger, and he was unable to break it. He turned back as far as he could, doorwings almost flat against his back, and gazed, forlornly, at Trailbreaker, who was still leaning against the doorjamb where Jazz had left him. 

The black mech stared back, expression dark. He gave a slow nod, then glanced upward. Bluestreak's vents hitched again, and his optics widened. 

“Bluestreak!” Prowl snapped, and tugged him to face forward again. Then they were in the forest, and the manor house was behind them.


	10. Chapter 9: Rescue

Chapter 9: Rescue

Bluestreak didn't bother resisting as he was led down the road, in the center of the company. They had weapons, and, from the familiar way they were holding them and moving with them, they knew how to use them. 

Prowl was walking at his side, leading him. Jazz, that small sliver mech, was walking close to Prowl's other side, much closer than Prowl would usually allow any non-family member.

Bluestreak probably would have been walking that close too, had the situation been different. As it was, he was lagging, doorwings drooping, optics dim.

After a few breems of walking, Prowl called a halt. 

“Bluestreak, what is wrong?”

The gray mech turned a half-sparked glare on his brother. “You didn't ask.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You didn't ask if I wanted to go. Prowl, I wanted to-”

An audial-shattering howl echoed through the forest, reverberating off the crystalline trees, making the mechs of the company shoulder their weapons and turn outward. Bluestreak looked up with wide optics, then turned back to Prowl. “Brother, I wanted to stay! They aren't what you think, they-”

Another howl, and a few mechs shuddered. “Primus,” one of them whispered. “What the slag is that?”

Turning wide, pleading optics on his brother, Bluestreak dipped his doorwings lower. “You have to let me go.”

“Bluestreak, they're monsters. They don't-”

“They aren't monsters!” the gray mech shouted, just as a massive, red form burst from the underbrush, rushing the line, heedless of the blaster fire coming its way. Another howl ripped from Sideswipe's vocalizer as he leapt into the company, jaws snapping, clawed hands tearing, throwing mechs in every direction. 

Another howl pulled the two Praxians' attention to the other side of the group where a yellow form had torn through the ranks of mechs much as his brother had.

Prowl had his blaster out in half a klik, and was racing toward Sunstreaker before Bluestreak could react. 

“Prowl! _NO!_ ”

But the black and white mech was already on the yellow Twin, energy blasts simply ricocheting off his thick plating, doing nothing more than burning the chromonanites and paint. Sunstreaker howled again, throwing off his other attackers and lunging toward Prowl. 

The black and white Praxian was tossed a few yards. He landed hard, but rolled, coming up on his pedes, blaster aimed at Sunstreaker's helm. Sideswipe yelped as he shook himself, loping over to circle the black and white mech with his brother. His glossa lolled out the side of his mouth, but it didn't look cute or endearing. 

It was feral, a wild beast slavering for energon. 

Jazz appeared from nowhere, and the shining dagger in his hand was plunged into Sideswipe's shoulder. The red wolf-mech howled again, then turned and grasped the back of the silver mech's neck, tearing him off and throwing him to the side. 

Prowl shouted, and he raised his blaster again. 

Then Bluestreak was there, standing in front of Sideswipe, doorwings splayed, expression determined. Sideswipe's growl immediately turned into a whine, and he nudged the gray mech's hand. Sunstreaker silently moved up behind Bluestreak, flanking him on his other side. 

Prowl's blaster wavered, then fell, his optics bright with confusion and anger. “Bluestreak, what is the meaning of this?” he asked, still in his stiff crouch, doorwings vibrating with tension. 

“Prowl. They aren't animals.” Confidently, the gray mech reached out and rested his fingertips lightly on a yellow audial fin. “They're mechs. Good mechs. They... Prowl, I... I love them.”

Sideswipe whined again, and Sunstreaker stiffened. Prowl jerked backwards, shock written over his entire frame. 

::You mean it?:: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe commed together, and Bluestreak smiled gently. 

::I do. I... I know it's only been a vorn, and we kinda had a rocky start, but... I do.::

Sideswipe sat back. Sunstreaker leaned even farther into his touch, pressing up against the red thigh. 

A moment later, shudders ran through their frames, and Sunstreaker pulled back slightly. Bluestreak turned to watch in awe as they slowly changed back into mechs. This transformation was unlike any he'd seen. They weren't in pain, and, despite it being from a mechanimal frame to a mech one, it looked... natural. Not at all like it had been before. 

A breem later, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were sitting in their mech forms, crouched at Bluestreak's side. 

Prowl, and any of the other mechs still standing, were staring in awe. Sideswipe started chuckling, and Sunstreaker stood. 

“Get off your aft, Sides,” he groused, his offered hand belying the gruffness in his voice. 

“But I like it down here. You all look so tall!”

“I _am_ tall.”

Sideswipe's snickering continued. 

Bluestreak smiled, then glanced over at Prowl, who's optics were more white than gold. Jazz was there, stroking his doorwings gently, whispering in his audial, visor bright and directed at the trio in front of them. 

Sideswipe, who had finally stood, followed Bluestreak's gaze. Slowly stepping in the silver mech's direction, he smiled. “Hey, sorry about throwing you. I... Well, all of you, really,” he said, turning to glance at the other mechs around them. “We just...”

“Wanted Blue back. You were in our way, and... like that... our...”

“Their subprotocols kind of take over,” Bluestreak finished, smiling faintly. “They're still mechs, but they do often react like, uh, mechanimals.”

“Yeah. What he said,” Sideswipe agreed with a grin. “So, no hard feelings?”

Prowl had, finally, gotten over his slight surprise, and was slowly standing. “I still do not like that you took Bluestreak's contract.”

Bluestreak laughed and walked over to his brother. “Prowl, I stayed for the first groon because of the contract. After that... I would have stayed whether they released me or not.”

“Blue...”

“It's fine, Prowl. Nobody's hurt too badly, and- Oh! Sideswipe! Your shoulder!”

The red mech blinked and glanced down. “It's fine.”

“What?”

“It's fine.” He shrugged, and Sunstreaker took over. 

“Happens. The transformation always healed us before. This time, I guess, was no different.”

A few mechs, Prowl and Bluestreak included, blinked. Jazz snickered. “Ya should be used t' strange things happenin' by now, Prowler.”

Bluestreak frowned. “And that brings up another question... Who _are_ you?” he demanded, eying Jazz. 

The silver mech snickered and tucked himself closer to Prowl's side. “That,” the black and white Praxian said, lifting his helm slightly, “is a story for another time. I... I do apologize, though. Smokescreen had me genuinely convinced.”

Bluestreak grimaced. “Well... he was kinda surprised.”

“To be quite honest, I, we, don't blame him,” Sideswipe added, smirking slightly. 

“We should send for him,” Sunstreaker murmured, stepping closer to Bluestreak. Then he glanced around. “All of you are welcome to stay for the day and night at our home. We have plenty of rooms and energon, and would be happy to share.”

Prowl smirking faintly and nodded. “It would be my pleasure and honor. I would like to get to know the mechs courting my _brother_.”

Exchanging a glance, the Twins hid a shudder. That sounded like a threat.

“Don't worry. Just the customary family warning of 'if you break his spark, I’ll break yours',” Prowl tacked on, seeing the shudder, smirk widening fractionally. 

Sideswipe smirked back, and Sunstreaker allowed a little smile to grow on his lips. “I don't think you'll have to worry about that,” Sideswipe said, tilting his helm slightly. 

Then he strode over to Bluestreak, bent down, and placed a solid kiss on the gray lips. Bluestreak yelped, but the sound was muffled by Sideswipe. After a klik of stunned in-action, he responded, kissing back just as fiercely as the red Twin was kissing him. 

After a long moment, Sideswipe pulled away, and Sunstreaker leaned down for his turn. The yellow Twin's kiss was soft and gentle, but just as enthusiastic as his brother's, and Bluestreak responded in kind. 

“Aww, ain't they cute, Prowler?” a lilting voice interrupted, and three engines rumbled threateningly at the silver mech. Jazz just laughed, smiling at the trio. Their playful scowls melted away as they smiled back.


	11. Chapter 10: Happily Ever After

Chapter 10: Happily Ever After

The journey back to Sunside Manor was fast, as they had not traveled far. They were greeted by three frantic mechs; Mirage, who was panicking and flustered, rushing back and forth on the front lawn, Hound, who was trying to calm the blue and white mech, and Trailbreaker, who was trying to settle them both. 

“I know something's happened, Hound!” Mirage was saying, hands waving at his sides. “Something's different! The curse... We can leave if we want! I just proved it! They're dead! I just- Bluestreak?”

The gray mech blinked, then laughed as he was practically tackled by the slim former noble. “Mirage? What's wrong?”

“Oh, Master Bluestreak, the curse is broken! We can leave! I was sure that it was because the Lords were killed... Oh, Primus!”

Sideswipe chuckled lowly as he stepped up and rested a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, arm gently brushing against the twitching doorwing, very much not half wolf. “Nope. Not dead. At least, I don't think we are. What do you think, Sunny?”

“I think you shouldn't call me that.”

The red Twin cast a playful smile at Mirage. “Yup. Pretty sure. But anyways, we've got guests-”

“Oh, oh, come, this way! I’ll tell everyone to get a nice dinner prepared, and rooms must be organized...” the blue mech muttered, attention immediately diverted, and turned around to rush back into the manor.

A few chuckles were shared through the company. Prowl stepped up next to his brother and shot him a questioning glance. 

“He's... Well... Hound said his carrier protocols activated for me?” Bluestreak answered the unspoken question with a wry glance of his own. “I guess it kinda carries over?”

“No, he's usually like that,” Trailbreaker said, shaking his helm. Then he stiffened, optics hardening.

A small, silver mech had sidled up next to Prowl.

“Trailbreaker, this is Jazz,” Bluestreak said slowly, stepping forward, doorwings twitching. 

“He-”

“Hey, mech,” the small mech interrupted as he pushed past the Praxians standing in front of him. “It weren't anythin' personal. Ah was jus' helpin' mah bondmate get his bro back.”

“I-” Trailbreaker started, but Bluestreak interrupted. 

“ _Bondmate_!? Prowl-?”

“It is a long story,” the black and white said, shifting slightly. “I will tell you later?”

Bluestreak eyed his brother. “Fine. But you _are_ telling.”

“Indeed. However, it seems you have a tale of your own to tell.”

At this point, Sunstreaker cut in. “We can do all the telling we want, but let's move inside. I don’t like the look of those acid clouds, and we have plenty of space, energon, and berths, for all of you.” The last part he said to the whole company, and there were many murmurs of excitement at the prospect of god energon followed by a night in a warm berth.

Slowly, the mechs filed into the manor house, easily following Trailbreaker and Hound's direction to the party room. They gathered in small groups, talking and laughing and drinking. The few more seriously injured mechs went straight to their berths, while those with smaller injuries simply treated them and stayed with the company. 

The Lords of the house, the two Praxians, and the small, silver, visored mech gathered at a small corner table to talk among themselves. Prowl demanded that Bluestreak tell his story first, and the gray mech did so, with occasional comments by Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. 

“He broke the curse when he said he loved us,” Sideswipe ended quietly, a faint, almost _shy_ smile on his face. Sunstreaker settled an arm around Bluestreak's waist, and the red Twin leaned against him on the other side. 

Prowl's blank expression had melted into a soft, fond smile. “I wish you three all the best. You do seem to fit together. Though this is rather... sudden.”

Bluestreak smiled back. “Thanks, Prowl. But you and Jazz isn't sudden? I wanna hear about this bondmate of yours,” he said, smirking in a decidedly Sideswipe-like manner. 

The black and white Praxian's doorwings drooped slightly, but perked back up when Jazz leaned into him, chuckling. 

“Our story's prolly jus' as interestin' as yers, Blue boy,” the silver mech said with a grin. 

“Indeed. Our story, though, does not simply start with us. It starts in a kingdom on the edge of the Great Rust Sea, where a city grew, and grew wealthy...”


	12. Omake: Fetch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An omake requested by LadyAnatar and bluebirdsoaring. ^.^

OMAKE: Fetch!

They were wandering the garden. It had become a habit, or a tradition, maybe; once a decaorn, the three of them would go down to the extensive crystal gardens behind the manor and simply walk around, spending time with each other. 

Bluestreak's days of fear were over. He was comfortable here, now, with the Twins in their wolf forms. 

At the moment, Sideswipe was prancing around like a puppy and Sunstreaker was sprawled out in the shade cast by a large crystal tree. Bluestreak was wandering around them, fiddling with crystal twigs that the tree had shed. 

A particularly large branch caught his optic, and he bent over to pick it up. It was large and sturdy, a dark purple color with thin veins of deep blue trailing through it. Slowly, he spun it in his hands, watching the way the colors blurred together into a pretty, purple-blue smear. 

Then he saw Sideswipe and Sunstreaker eying the branch, and a smirk grew on his lips. He had once had a little petrohound. It had always loved to chase branches...

Smirk widening, he pulled back, swung forward, and let loose. “Fetch!” he called as Sideswipe shot off after it. Sunstreaker seemed to be resisting his subprotocols with all his strength. His helm was straining in the direction his Twin had run, his tail lashing from side to side, his armor rattling slightly. 

Bluestreak giggled as Sideswipe trotted back, branch held in fanged jaws, looking somehow proud and embarrassed at the same time. With a dignified sniff, he dropped the branch at Bluestreak's pedes and pranced off, tail waving high, nose in the air. 

Snickering, the gray mech lifted the branch and threw it again, right over the red wolf-mech's helm. Sideswipe started, then took off after it, tail wagging happily. Sunstreaker gave an exasperated whine, and Bluestreak stepped over and knelt down next to him. 

The yellow wolf-mech looked up, a frown wrinkling his canine face. Bluestreak giggled again. 

“Come on, Sunny. It's just a bit of fun!”

A low, grumbling growl reverberated from Sunstreaker's chest. His companion smiled softly and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on his narrow nose. 

Startled, the yellow wolf-mech jerked back, a strange half-yip, half-bark yelped from his vocalizer. Bluestreak laughed again, this time loud and happy. 

Sideswipe, who had found the branch and brought it back, nudged Bluestreak's back, right between his doorwings. Having sensed the red wolf-mech, the gray mech did nothing but turn around and smile. 

“Aw, does Sides want his kiss too?”

Sideswipe gave a theatrical whine and turned the kicked turbopuppy optics on. Smiling, Bluestreak placed a friendly kiss on the offered black nose. 

Sunstreaker huffed a heavy vent, and, feeling a bit mischievous, Bluestreak picked up the branch again. 

“Now, who wants to play some more fetch?”

This time, Sideswipe bent down, tail waving, glossa lolling, and, with a playful grin, the gray mech let the branch fly.


	13. Ficlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Found this in an unsent email, of all places. No idea why it was there, or who I was sending it to, or why it was written, or if it was for anyone. *shrugs* Don't even know if this is the end, or if there's supposed to be more. Either way, enjoy.

The low rumble of idling high-power engines filled the room. Three forms lay sprawled on the massive berth. One was in recharge. Two were not.

The Lords Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stared at their little gray bondmate, simply watching him recharge. 

~He's beautiful,~ Sunstreaker rumbled, a soft light filling his optics as they traced over the prone form of the Praxian. 

~He is,~Sideswipe agreed, smiling. ~I can't believe...~

~Same here.~

Again, they simply watched, their long, sinuous, canine forms curled around their bondmate's more traditional bipedal mode. Half a joor passed in the near silence of the room as they watched. 

Slowly, though, he began to stir.

"Mm... Sides? Sunny? Is something wrong?"

Sideswipe yipped and shook his helm, his whole body shaking with the motion. 

::Nothing's wrong, Sweetspark. We're just admiring you,:: Sunstreaker said over their shared comm link as he bared his fangs in a grin. 

They both could feel his embarrassment in his field as he shifted. "I'm nothing special," he said, giving them a tiny smile. "You guys are the beautiful ones."

Sunstreaker snorted and Sideswipe snickered. ::I know _I'm_ beautiful when I'm in my bipedal mode,:: the yellow Twin said in a lofty tone, ::but you underestimate yourself.::

::You'd make all the other lords jealous, had we been back... in times before.::

Bluestreak just rolled his optics and sank back into the warm space between them.


End file.
